Page 70 of From London, With Love

I stop short in the living room at the clattering coming from the kitchen.

Mia.

The events of this afternoon completely threw me, resulting in no forward planning on the issue of telling Mia. Shit, shit, shit. I silently curse Harper for being out tonight; I could’ve used the buffer.

If I sneak past the kitchen and straight down the hall, I might buy myself some time to think this through. It might not be a great plan, but it’s the only one I have right now.

“Oh hey, I thought I heard the door.”

Mia’s cheerful voice almost has me leaping out of my skin. My hand shoots up to my chest, attempting to calm my racing heart.

“Sorry Lars, didn’t realise you were so jumpy. Are you good?”

I drop my hand to my side, trying to minimise the dramatics, and let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, just didn’t hear you.”

Lie.

“You look like you’ve had a big day. Come, sit.” She gestures to the stools at the breakfast bar. “I’ll get you some wine. Have you eaten? I’m making Bolognese if you want a bowl.”

“That sounds great, thanks Mia.”?

Following her into the kitchen, I deposit my things onto the counter and take a seat. I reach down to remove the new heels I was breaking in today and stifle a gasp when I sit up and find her standing right in front of me, two full wine glasses in hand.

Mia gives me a stern look, placing one glass in front of me. “Okay, what’s going on? That’s twice in the space of five minutes that I’ve somehow scared the shit out of you without trying. I’ve never known you to be skittish, so out with it.”

My gaze drops to the floor, the white marble tiles becoming increasingly more interesting as I gather my thoughts. “I’d like to preface this by saying although I’ve spent all afternoon thinking about this, I haven’t got the slightest clue how to say it delicately.”

A half lie. Mia doesn’t need to know her brother edging me in our office boardroom is the real reason I haven’t come up with a good way to tell her this.

“Lars, whatever it is, just spit it out.” She lets out a sigh, as though what I’m about to say couldn’t possibly bethatbad. Dread curls in the pit of my stomach.

“As you know, Carter and I had to go to Norcaster for a client meeting while you and Harps were in Mallorca.” I drag my gaze to meet hers, waiting.

Mia quirks a brow. “Yeees?” she says. “Did the meeting not go well or something?”

God, this is painful.?

“No, the meeting was fine. It actually went really well.”

“But . . .” Mia responds, urging me on.

“But . . .” I close my eyes briefly, huffing out a breath. “Long story short, Carter and I slept together.”

Mia’s eyes widen comically, her brows shooting up towards her hairline. Before she can respond, I hurry to continue. “Not like that! I mean, we had to sleep in the same bed because of the Winter Festival.”

“So you didn’t sleep with my brother?”

I hesitate for a moment but instantly regret it when Mia’s jaw drops open slightly, brows dropping down into a frown.

“Oh my god, you did.” Her voice is quiet, much too quiet.?

“No, I mean, yes, but n-not fully.” I’m scrambling, tripping over my words.

“You either did or you didn’t, Lara.” Mia stares at me for a moment. When I don’t respond straight away, she stands. “You know what, I’d rather if you didn’t clarify what ‘not fully’ means. I think I’ve heard enough.”

“Mia,” I plead as she rounds the buffet and returns to the stove, her back towards me.?

She places the wine glass down with force, drops sloshing out as she does so. “I just don’t get it, Lara. There are more than four million men in London, yet you go and sleep with mybrother?”

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